Actus Quartus

Scena Prima.

      [Enter Perez.]

Michael Perez: 

      I’ll go to a Conjurer but I’ll find this Pol-cat,
      This pilfering Whore:  a plague of Vails, I cry,
      And covers for the impudence of Women,
      Their sanctity in show will deceive Devils,
      It is my evil Angel, let me bless me.

      [Enter Estifania with a Casket.]

Estifania: 

      ’Tis he, I am caught, I must stand to it stoutly,
      And show no shake of fear, I see he is angry,
      Vext at the uttermost.

Michael Perez: 

      My worthy Wife,
      I have been looking of your modesty
      All the town over.
209]

Estifania: 

      My most noble Husband,
      I am glad I have found ye, for in truth I am weary,
      Weary and lame with looking out your Lordship.

Michael Perez: 

      I have been in Bawdy Houses.

Estifania: 

      I believe you, and very lately too.

Michael Perez: 

      ’Pray you pardon me,
      To seek your Ladyship, I have been in Cellars,
      In private Cellars, where the thirsty Bawds
      Hear your Confessions; I have been at Plays,
      To look you out amongst the youthful Actors,
      At Puppet Shews, you are Mistress of the motions,
      At Gossippings I hearkned after you,
      But amongst those Confusions of lewd Tongues
      There’s no distinguishing beyond a Babel. 
      I was amongst the Nuns because you sing well,
      But they say yours are Bawdy Songs, they mourn for ye,
      And last I went to Church to seek you out,
      ’Tis so long since you were there, they have forgot you.

Estifania: 

      You have had a pretty progress, I’ll tell mine now: 
      To look you out, I went to twenty Taverns.

Michael Perez: 

      And are you sober?

Estifania: 

      Yes, I reel not yet, Sir,
      Where I saw twenty drunk, most of ’em Souldiers,
      There I had great hope to find you disguis’d too. 
      From hence to th’ dicing-house, there I found
      Quarrels needless, and senceless, Swords and Pots, and Candlesticks,
      Tables and Stools, and all in one confusion,
      And no man knew his Friend.  I left this Chaos,
      And to the Chirurgions went, he will’d me stay,
      For says he learnedly, if he be tipled,
      Twenty to one he whores, and then I hear of him,
      If he be mad, he quarrels, then he comes too. 
      I sought ye where no safe thing would have ventur’d,
      Amongst diseases, base and vile, vile Women,
      For I remembred your old Roman axiom,
      The more the danger, still the more the Honour. 
      Last, to your Confessor I came, who told me,
      You were too proud to pray, and here I have found ye.